


Rules to Live By

by Medeafic



Series: Supernova [2]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: D/s, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, brief mentions of of self-harm (cutting and drinking)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-21
Updated: 2011-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 20:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medeafic/pseuds/Medeafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zach and Chris start to work out some rules to help make the distance easier.  And Zach decides Chris needs to work on his self-control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules to Live By

Zach tends gets over problems so quickly it gives Chris whiplash, but Chris – he always holds on just that bit longer.  He still feels embarrassed about breaking his old cell phone, and buys an expensive new one which apparently has fantastic pixel sizes.  Or something like that; he nodded more than he listened to that part, but it means his new phone takes good photographs.

As soon as he gets back to his trailer with it the next morning, he sends Zach a picture of his _ZQ_ ’d ass, as requested.  He tries to take the best photo he can to make it up to Zach, and actually – “Huh.”  The picture quality really is good, a lot better than his old phone.

He’s still staring at his own butt in admiration when the phone starts ringing in his hand.

“That’s really great picture quality,” Zach says, sounding impressed.

“I know, right?” Chris says.  “My ass looks _amazing_.  Totally worth breaking the old cell.”

“Hrm.” Zach sounds like he’s amused and trying not to be.

“So,” Chris says.  “If we’re both finished looking at my ass, can we talk about the rules?”

“Now?”

“Why not?  I mean, I’m at work, but I’m on a break.”

Chris hears Zach slamming a door.  “I have to go out soon.”

“Oh.  Where are you going?”

“Victor’s coming by and then we’re catching up with some friends.  At the park.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?  You sound like you don’t want me to go,” Zach says, laughing.

“Nah, I mean, whatever, man.  I know you like the park.”  The problem is, Zach likes it _too_ much, and Chris is afraid that all the wonders of New York will prove too much temptation, and Zach will stay there.  Forever.  “I was just hoping to get this sorted out.  The rules.”

“I can talk for a few,” Zach says obligingly.  “And actually, we already have some rules in place.  Sharpie mark, for one.”

“Sharpie mark,” Chris agrees.  “I’m going to write these down.”

“You’re so dedicated,” Zach murmurs.

“Bite me.  What else?”

“Honesty Policy,” Zach says.

“That’s a rule?”

“What would you call it?”

“I mean, that’s a rule for _this_?  I thought they’d be more…”  Chris feels vaguely disappointed.

“Sexy?”  Chris can hear smirk in Zach’s voice.

“Well, yeah.  Sexy.  Or, you know.  Kinky.”

“Well, what would you like?  What would make you feel secure?”

“Um.”  Chris thinks for a while.  What would make him feel secure?  _You must move back here immediately and never leave LA again.  Unless I do_.  No, that wouldn’t go down well.  But maybe…“You have to come back here to visit,” he blurts out.

“I was planning to do that anyway.”

“Well, yeah, I know that,” Chris says awkwardly.  “I just meant, uh.  Soon?  And often?”

“I’ll do what I can,” Zach says sincerely.  “But I really don’t think we should make that a rule.  We both have so much on…I don’t want to promise something I can’t deliver.”

Fucking Zachary and his practicalities.  “You couldn’t just lie to me to keep me happy?” Chris sighs.

“Rule two: Honesty Policy.  Ringing a bell?  I’ll come back to visit when I can, I promise.  I miss you too much not to get back there soon.”  Chris sort of hates how sympathetic Zach sounds, so he tries to pull himself together.

“Whatever, man.  It’s fine,” he says, approximating cheerfulness.

But then Chris hears someone shouting to Zach, and the scuffing noise on the phone tells him that Zach is covering the mouthpiece.  “Sorry,” he says into the phone again after a few seconds.  “Victor’s here.  I have to go.  I’m sorry, Chris.”  And Zach really does sound sorry, which makes it a little better.  “I’ll call you back tonight?  It’ll give you time to think, anyway.”

“Sure,” Chris says.  “Yeah.  I’ll think.”

He grabs a sheet of paper after hanging up, and writes across it in the same sharpie he uses to re-mark the ZQ on his ass.

 

**THE RULES**

**1) Sharpie mark must be re-inked regularly and photographic evidence sent.**

**2) Honesty Policy, despite not being sexy.**

**  
**

It’s a start.  Not exactly what he expected, but it’s a start. 

But Chris knows he can’t be away from Zach like this for much longer.  It’s too much.  It’s too hard.  And instead of calling, Zach texts him, late at night, apologizing, saying he got caught up and will call tomorrow night instead.

It’s too much, the distance.  He has to do something about it.

  
***

  
Chris finds that fortune favors the bold, or at least the whiny, because an early morning hissyfit to his manager and publicist finally gets him time off next week, and approval to go to New York.  But instead of agreeing to let Zach pick him up at the airport, they say they’ll organize a car.  And even though Chris understands why, and appreciates Zach’s texted, _if i did, i’d get arrested for what i’d do to you_ , it still stings.

“You’re going to be _here_ ,” Zach says on the phone that evening.  He sounds ecstatic.  “With _me_.  I’ll be able to _touch_ you.  And I’ll finally get to play with you and make you cry again.  Why are you even thinking about whether or not I get to meet you at the airport?”

“I don’t cry,” Chris says automatically.  “And because it pisses me off.”

“You’ll stay at my place, right?”

“I have to get a hotel room.  And I have to stay in it at least a couple of nights.”

“Oh.”  Zach sounds less happy.  “Well, okay.”

“Same reason as the airport.”

“Yeah.  I get it.”  Zach sounds really, really disappointed.

“You’ll finally get to play with me and make me cry again.  Why are you even thinking about where I’ll stay?”

“Touché,” Zach says.  “Also, I have it on good authority that you don’t cry.  When are you coming?”

“I’ll fly in on April twenty-third.”

“Wow, really?  That’s so _soon_.”  Zach is straight back to happy again.  “I’ll have to plan out where to take you.  I think you’ll love New York.”

“I’ve _been_ there before,” Chris says.  He tries not to sound annoyed.

“Not with me.”  Zach starts talking about how beautiful the New York skyline looks from a particular place he found, and how good the pizza is in New York, and how much better the coffee is than back in LA, and how fantastic the people in his neighborhood are, and by the end of it Chris is gritting his teeth and has the urge to punch Lady Liberty square in the face.

“How was the park yesterday?” he asks instead.  He goes to the kitchen to grab a drink – water only, now, every time he talks to Zach.  He’s promised no more drunk-dials.

“Awesome,” Zach says enthusiastically.  “We – yeah.”  He stops himself suddenly.  “We had a good time,” he finishes.  “But it would have been much more fun with you there.”

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” Chris asks.  He kicks the fridge door shut, maybe a little harder than necessary.  “Because seriously, it’s okay to have fun with people other than me.  New York is a fun place.”  He’s going for light sarcasm, but it comes out a bit more snarky than he intended.

“Of course I’m not just saying it,” Zach replies.  “I miss you every day.  You know that.”

Chris opens his mouth and closes it again.  “Well.  Thanks,” he says eventually.  “And sorry.  I _do_ want you to have fun.  I just…”

“I know.  Have you thought of any more rules?”

No, he hasn’t, but Chris is suddenly hit with inspiration.  “I want to talk to you every day,” he says.  “It doesn’t have to be for long, but – I want to hear you.  I want to talk to you.”  He hopes it doesn’t sound clingy.  It’s a bit embarrassing.  He’s never been like this with a girlfriend, although he’s never had a long distance relationship with a girlfriend.  So it’s hard to compare.

“Okay,” Zach says, sounding confused.  “But we talk every day anyway.”

“Not by phone.”  A lot of the time it’s just texts, or emails.  But it’s Zach’s voice that Chris misses and that he needs to hear.  “I mean by phone or video call.”

“What if you’re busy?” Zach says.  “Or what if I am?”

“Zach, you can spare five fucking minutes to call me.  Prioritize.”

“Right.  Sorry,” Zach says, and he does sound chastened.  “I’m just trying to think about it practically.  I don’t want to promise you I’ll do something and then it turns out I can’t do it.”

Chris relents.  “If you can’t get hold of me, leave me a voice message, or I’ll leave you one.  And we can take turns.  I called you today, so you call me tomorrow.”

“That seems fair.”

“Not too dependent?” Chris asks, and then makes a _Shut up, dumbass!_ face at himself in the mirror on the wall.  He waits nervously for Zach’s response.

“No.”  Zach sounds vaguely surprised.  “Whatever you need.  Well, within reason.  No cutting yourself, for example.”

Chris rolls his eyes.  “Yeah, yeah.  And no drinking myself into maudlin stupors.  We went over this.  I promised: no stomach pumps, no stitches.”

“That still leaves a wide spectrum of stupid behaviors open to you,” Zach says dryly.  “But I’ll drop the topic.”

“Thank you.  And it’s your turn now.”

Zach clears his throat.  “I don’t want you to have to ask permission for stuff all the time.  That gets really old, really fast.  But sometimes, when I feel like it, I’m going to ask you not to jack off until I say you can.”

Chris swallows.  “Okay,” he says.  When they’re together, Zach sometimes makes him ask permission to come.  Not every time, but sometimes.  When he feels like it.  So Chris thinks it’ll be something like that, and it’ll be a nice reminder.

“Your turn,” Zach says.

Chris thinks about it.  “This is hard,’ he complains at last.  “I have no imagination.  Can’t you just do the rest?”

“No, that’s not the point.”  But Zach sounds amused.  “If you can’t think of anything right now, leave it.  They need to be real for you, important things, not just whatever comes into your head.  We can talk about it another time.  Besides, it’s getting late.”  He gives an enormous yawn.  “I should go.”

“Okay,” Chris agrees glumly. 

“Have a nice day tomorrow.  Oh, and Christopher?  No jacking off until I say you can.”  Zach’s voice is silky, teasing, and Chris immediately gets hard.

“Already?” he asks.  “But that’s not fair!”

“That’s the _rule_ , Christopher.”

  


  


**THE RULES**   


**1) Sharpie mark must be re-inked regularly and photographic evidence sent.**

**2) Honesty Policy, despite not being sexy.**

**3) Minimum 5 minute phone call daily (or voicemail).  Take turns calling.**

**4) Zach can withhold masturbation privileges from Chris, if he feels like it.**

 

**  
**

Now _that’s_ more like it.

  
***

  
Not being allowed to touch himself is a lot more difficult than Chris anticipated.  All he can think about is his dick from the moment he wakes up the next day, especially when it’s lying expectant and engorged on his stomach.  And he can’t touch it.  It’s maddening.  He hasn’t really felt like this since puberty, when he first discovered what it could do, but felt bad about doing it.  Long-forgotten furtive, guilty feelings wash over him; he hasn’t felt anything like this in almost two decades. 

It’s easier at work, of course, but he has an early call and only a half-day, and then he gets home and has to occupy himself.  _Don’t think about it_ , he tells himself.  _Don’t think about it_.  That doesn’t help.  At _all_.  He’s astonished at his own need. 

He calls his friends again, the avoidant ones, and mostly they don’t answer or are allegedly just on the way out and can’t talk, until one of them, Dave, finally has a conversation with him.  He’s busy tonight – or says he is – but he agrees to come over tomorrow.  Chris resolves to let his personal hygiene slip a little to reinforce the “I don’t want to bang you, thanks all the same” message.

The second he puts the phone down, his balls start tingling.  He texts Zach: _How long till I can?_

Zach replies, _so impatient_ , and that’s not actually an answer. 

Chris decides to go for a jog, before the light dies.  It helps a little, but after jogging he has to shower again, which just gives him easy access to his hard-on, and goddamn it, did Zach _know_ it was going to be this difficult for him? 

Zach calls him just after he gets out of the shower, because it’s Zach's turn to call, and that’s the rule.  And Chris begins to see the sense of them.  Even though they’re not quite what he was anticipating, they define specific expectations, and having them met – is good.  Comforting.  Zach was right.  It makes him feel more secure.

Chris doesn’t bring up the subject of his dick immediately with Zach.  He figures that being polite and seeming slightly uninterested might give him a better chance.  “You’ll be glad to hear I’m slightly less of a loser,” Chris says.  “One of my friends is finally willing to hang out with me.  Tomorrow night.  He’s coming round to watch a movie.”

“That _is_ good,” Zach says.  He sounds really happy.  “I guess they did just need a bit of time.  I’m glad you were right about that.”

“Yes.  So.  I’d really like to, uh…” Chris pauses, cursing himself.  So much for holding out.  “Come.  Please,” he adds.

“Hmmm.”  Zach pauses, and Chris clenches his fingers in his own shirt.  “Nope.  Not tonight.”

“But –”

“I said no, Christopher.”  He’s using that _don’t argue with me_ tone.

“Sorry,” Chris says, contrite.  But then – _Hey, wait a minute.  I’m not the one who should be –_

“Apology accepted,” Zach says, and his voice is all hot and sharp and full of casual entitlement, and Chris feels a rush of blood through his whole body, like his heart has sped up with the force of a piston.  For some reason he feels inordinately grateful to Zach.

“ _Zach_ ,” he says, without knowing quite what he wants to communicate.

“Yes?”

“I think…I think the rules are working.”

  
***

  
Chris wakes early the next day, roused by his insistent cock, but it’s not early in New York, so he grabs his phone and calls Zach.

“Good morning.”  Zach is amused.

“Please?”

Zach clears his throat and reprovingly says again, “ _Good morning_.”

“Jesus Christ!  _Good morning_.  Please?”

“I’m very sorry, Christopher,” Zach says, and he really does sound regretful; if Chris weren’t an actor too he’d actually believe him.  “But I’m about to start filming.  Maybe later?”

“You bastard,” Chris says, but he can’t keep a slight tone of admiration out of his voice.

“Those are the rules.  You agreed to them.”

“I didn’t think it would be like this!”

“Well, you should have asked about the fine print.”  Zach sounds smug.  “I guess you’ll know for next time.  Speaking of the rules, does this count as our five minute call?”

“No, it doesn’t, and you know it doesn’t.  Go shoot your damn scene.”  He hangs up to the sound of Zach laughing.  His balls are starting to ache, which is ridiculous, because it hasn’t been _that_ long, and he’s not thirteen anymore.  “I don’t think I like this game after all,” he mutters.

It doesn’t help that Chris’s day turns out to be such a bad one, even though he has the morning off.  He skips his shower, which makes him feel unpleasant.  But Dave is a guy who thinks that dirty plates in the sink and more beer than food in the fridge are a measure of masculinity.  If Chris had his pick, Dave probably wouldn’t be his first choice of his straight-guy-friends to hang out with, not one-on-one anyway.  But he’s the only one who didn’t have a suspiciously vague prior engagement when Chris rang around.

Half-way through stacking cheap beer into the fridge, so they’ll be cold for tonight, Dave texts him and cancels.  On the plus side, Chris doesn’t have to make a decision about whether crumpled empty cans on the coffee table would be going too far.  On the downside, of _course_ Dave cancels, because it’s totally true: Everybody Hates Chris.

Chris feels unbearably lonely for a moment.  He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes, which are prickling uncomfortably.  He thinks about Zach in New York and he thinks about how he skipped a shower for some guy who’s supposed to be his friend who couldn’t even be bothered to _call_ to cancel, and his temper starts rising.  And by the time he realizes he _could_ shower now, it’s too late, and he has to leave for work.

The paps get him on his pre-work coffee run.  One of them comes right up close and tries to ask about some girl Chris has been seen with, and it’s just too much right now.  He bolts back to his car, drives to work in a fury of screeching tires and slammed brakes.  When he gets to his trailer, he phones his publicist and starts yelling at her.

Zach calls him later during Chris’s break, and he answers with a hopeful heart.

“Your publicist called me,” Zach says.  “ _Me_.  Because apparently you have gone insane.”

Chris is taken aback.  “Sorry,” he says.  “I’ll tell her not to call you.”

“I don’t _care_ that she called me,” Zach explains, as though he’s speaking to a not-very-bright four year old.  “I care that you get so mad over the paparazzi.”  Chris wants to tell Zach that if he’d had a bit of _relief_ that morning, he wouldn’t have been so grouchy, but he bites his tongue.  Zach does not respond well to that kind of thing. 

“Why did she call _you_?”

“Because she is, and I quote, at her wits’ end.”  Zach starts talking in a passable impression of his publicist’s voice, and it makes Chris smile a little.  “Zachary, I swear to God, if that boy does not calm the fuck down, he’ll have a Britney-level meltdown.”  Chris snorts.  “And she called me because she thinks you’re indulging in some kind of hero-worship.  Of me,” he adds.  “Not Britney Spears.”

“That’s bullshit,” Chris says defensively.  Hero-worship?  The fuck?  He really needs to think about getting a new publicist.

“I agree.  If you were hero-worshipping me, you’d be much better with the paps.  And dress better.”

“Whatever,” Chris scowls.  He’s still irritated about his publicist going behind his back like that.  Like she was _telling_ on him to Zach.

“So,” Zach is saying, “I have another rule.”

“It was my turn!” Chris protests.

“Too bad.  I want you to do something about your anger management issue.”

“What anger management issue?”

Zach laughs.

“No, seriously,” Chris says.  “It’s not an _issue_.”

“Pine,” Zach says, incredulous.  “Trust me.  It’s an _issue_.  You need to find a better way to deal with things.  Since I’ve been gone it seems to have flared up again.  You’re throwing phones and screaming at people.  It’s like you’re morphing into Naomi Campbell.”

Chris wants to tell him to go fuck himself, but that would just prove Zach’s point.  “What do you want me to do?” he asks mutinously.

“I was thinking you could try yoga.”

“I – _yoga_?  But that’s – that’s _your_ thing.  _You_ do yoga.”

“I don’t have a patent pending on it, you know.”

“Zach, come on!  Yoga?  I…”  Chris flaps his hand around.  “I _run_.  And do _weights_.  Not _yoga_.”

“You’ve done it with me before.  And I think it will help you feel more controlled.”

“I –” Chris breaks off before he can say _I don’t need help_.  Remembers his broken phone.  “Fuck.”

“Yoga has advantages for sex, too,” Zach points out.  “But if you really don’t want to try yoga, I guess you could see a therapist.”

A fucking _therapist_?  “I’ll do yoga,” Chris says immediately.  “But so help me, if anyone finds out about this…”  Chris’s straight friends, the ones who are avoiding him – he doesn’t need to seem even weirder to them.  Not right now.

“You can do it at home,” Zach says calmly.  “You have that beginner DVD I gave you that you’ve never watched.  Yeah, you heard me,” he says over Chris’s interruption.  “I _know_ you haven’t watched it, Pine.  Yoga.  Three times a week.”

“But –”

“That’s the rule I want,” Zach says firmly.

“I still don’t see how that’s going to make me feel more secure,” Chris snaps.  It seems ridiculous.

“It’ll make _me_ feel more secure.  The rules aren’t just for your benefit, Christopher.”

“Oh.  Well.  I know that,” Chris says, feeling a little selfish now.  “But even so, how does me doing yoga make you feel better?”

“Believe me,” Zach says with feeling, “knowing that there’s slightly less chance of you going nuclear in downtown LA will be very reassuring for me.  I’ll worry less.”

Chris chews on his fingernail.  “Fine, whatever.  Yay, yoga.  Can I come now?”

“Hell, no.”

“When are you going to _let_ me?” Chris groans.

“I’d say…April twenty-third.”

“ _What_?”

“Seems pretty perfect to me.  You’ll arrive here, I can watch, and in the meantime you can learn some self-control.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Yelling at me isn’t going to change anything.”

“ _I’m not_ –”  Chris takes a deep breath.  “I’m not yelling,” he says evenly.  “I just don’t think it’s fair.  That’s three more days.”

“Only two, really, from tomorrow.  Wednesday, Thursday, and then you’ll be here Friday night.  Try the yoga, it’ll help.  Maybe.”

“But it’s not –”

“Christopher,” Zach says, his voice soft.  “I _know_ it’s not fair.  But I’m not doing this _just_ to be mean to you, you know.  It has its benefits.”

“ _Benefits_?”

“You said it yourself – you think the rules are working.”

Chris makes a noise that is half laugh and half sob.  “I guess I did.”  _Stupid_ , he tells himself.

“Trust me,” Zach says, and Chris wants to trust him, he really does, but everything seems so fucking unfair.  “But you know…”

“What?”

“You know we don’t have to do this.  If the rules aren’t working for you – if what I’m asking from you is too much – you can always safe word.”

 _Enterprise Enterprise Enterprise_ , Chris thinks.  But when he opens his mouth, he says, “Whatever you want, Zach.  Whatever you want.  It’s working for me.”  A thought strikes him.  “Is it – are you okay with it?”

“Yeah,” Zach breathes, like he’s been holding the air in his lungs a little too long.  “It’s good for me.”

 

  


  


**THE RULES**   


**1) Sharpie mark must be re-inked regularly and photographic evidence sent.**

**2) Honesty Policy, despite not being sexy.**

**3) Minimum 5 minute phone call daily (or voicemail).**   
**Take turns calling.**   
**  
4) Zach can withhold masturbation privileges from Chris, if he feels like it.**

**5) Fucking yoga, 3 times a week.**

 

  
***

  
Yoga, which Chris tries it the next morning, is even harder when his balls feel like leaden weights, and pushing his ass up in the air has him longing for Zach.  And at the back of his mind is the thought that if his publicist finds out about this, it’ll just confirm her stupid hero-worship theory.  He gives up eventually, figuring that doing half the DVD is enough for the first time, and he has to get to work anyway.  In the shower, he tries to concentrate on work, recite his lines, but it’s difficult.  He’s discovered through all this that he thinks about sex a _lot_.  Who knew?

But he does as he’s told, and doesn’t touch.  He half expected to blow his load during the night anyway – and that would hardly have been his fault – but the rules have interrupted his dreaming. 

He had been arguing with Zach.  “You’re not supposed to mix patterns,” he told him, because Zach insisted on wearing a striped shirt with a plaid jacket.

But Zach just shrugged.  “I can break the rules if I want.  And stop touching yourself.  _Stop_!”  Chris had woken up with a start, his dick aching.

At lunch time, his phone buzzes with a message.  _i hope you’re being good today._  
  
That, just that, nearly sets him off right in the middle of a bunch of people, his fingers clenching onto the phone – which is weird, because Zach’s touch has done it, and Zach’s voice has done it, but Zach’s words on a screen?  That’s edging past the borders of ludicrous and into crazy territory.

 _I am_ , he texts back.

 _rule 1_.  Zach doesn’t have to specify any further than that, Chris realizes, and it feels good.  It feels good to have their own private language.  He chokes down the rest of his lunch, ignores the teasing from the rest of the cast about his appetite, and runs back to his trailer to photograph the sharpie mark on his ass and send it to Zach.  Because whenever Zach asks for proof it’s still there, Chris will send it.  That’s the rule.

_yoga?_

_Yes._

_whole dvd?_

Goddamn it.  Chris thinks about the second half of the DVD.  Zach will ask about it during their phone call.  He’ll probably have a fucking _quiz_ ready. 

 _Nearly_ , he texts back.  _Tonight.  I promise_.  He can’t lie and just say he’s done it, because that would be breaching the second rule.

And when he gets home, he rushes to do the second half of the DVD before he calls Zach, because it’s his turn to call (rule 3), and the stupid yoga is no easier on his nuts (because of rule 4) but he has to do the yoga anyway (rule 5), and he curses liberally at Zach.  But afterwards maybe he does feel a bit better, a bit calmer. 

But no way in a million years will he ever admit that to Zach.

“Yeah, I think maybe the yoga will work,” Chris says immediately, when Zach asks.  _Rule two.  Oh, fuck_.

“That’s good news,” Zach chuckles.

“I…didn’t mean to tell you that.  I think I’m going a bit crazy,” Chris confides.  “All I can think about are rules.”  He lies down gently on the bed, trying to avoid giving any more sensation to his current semi.

“Well,” Zach says.  “Don’t get too caught up in the mechanics.”

“No, yeah, I know, I’m not going weird, I’m just saying –”

“That’s not what I meant,” Zach says.  “And I don’t think you’re going weird.  I’m not judging your behavior constantly, by the way.  You seem to think I am.”

“I just don’t want to let you down,” Chris says.  “I don’t want to get all…dependent.”  Because he doesn’t want this to stop, this experiment.  He doesn’t want Zach to call a halt.  He’s just starting to get comfortable with it.

“That seems unlikely,” Zach says, supremely confident.  “And if I ever feel like you are, you know I’ll tell you.  What I meant was, you need to focus on the _purpose_ of the rules.  Doing them is important, but the reasons are more important.”

Chris sighs.

“What do you think the rules are _for_ , Christopher?”

“Sexy fun stuff?”

Zach laughs, and it’s a genuine, delighted laugh that makes Chris’s heart beat faster.  “Yeah, sure.  Some of them.  But that’s not why we started it.”

“For structure.”

“Yeah.  And?”

Chris rolls his eyes.  Zach’s the one who doesn’t like being questioned, and now he’s hell-bent on interrogating Chris.  “And…to make us feel better.  Grounded.  Secure.”  It hits him.  “Closer.”

“Right.  Which is why you need to pick them carefully.”

“Your rule.  About – not letting me jerk off.”

“Yes?”

“You said it has benefits.”

“Don’t you think so?” 

“I know what the benefits are to _me_ , but –”

“Tell me,” Zach says immediately. 

Chris laughs now.  “I can’t stop thinking about you.  I’m totally buzzed.  All I can concentrate on is you and when you’ll let me…but it’s more than that,” he says thoughtfully.  “Isn’t it?  Yeah.  It’s more than that too.”  Chris pulls the pillow down under his head, relaxes.  He’s seeing things clearer now.  “It’s a connection to you, like the sharpie mark.  A reminder.”

“A good reminder?” Zach asks, his tone teasing.

“Not _great_ ,” Chris says between gritted teeth.  “But certainly effective.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“But how does it benefit _you_?” Chris asks again.  He’s determined to get an answer.  “Rule two – Honesty Policy,” he warns, and Zach laughs again.

“I was _going_ to answer,” he says.  “Just interested in your perspective.”  Chris hears him settle into his own bed.  “Similar sort of thing,” he says.  “Connection.  But it’s slightly different for me.”

“Less concentrated in your cock?” Chris suggests wryly.

“A little less, sure.  But I think you’d be surprised.”

“Oh,” Chris breathes.

“Sometimes – sometimes it’s just nice to know I have total control over _something_ in life.  It’s…calming.”

This is news to Chris.  Zach always seems so controlled and in command of himself that it’s weird to think he might not see things the same way.  “I want you to touch yourself for me,” Zach is saying.  At Chris’s happy noise, he adds, “I’m not going to let you come, so don’t sound too thrilled.”

Chris takes a second to remind himself that the rules are not just for his benefit.  They’re for Zach’s benefit as well.

“Alright,” he says.  And adds, “Thank you.”

Zach takes a deep breath.  “Did you just _thank_ me?  For not letting you come?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, I did.”

“Did you actually mean it?”

“Yes.  I did.”

Zach groans.  “You’re killing me here.”

Chris smiles.  “I know you like me compliant,” he says.  “And obedient.”

“I do,” Zach agrees, and his voice has a very slight shake in it that Chris decides he’ll count as a win. 

“Do you want to tell me how to touch myself?” he asks, all innocence.

“No.  No – you can talk to _me_ this time.  Tell me what you’re doing to yourself.  And _do not_ come, Christopher.”

Chris swallows down on his desire.  “I won’t,” he says.  “But you’re making me so hard, Zach, you have no idea.  It’s fucking _painful_.”  He gingerly unzips his jeans and places a hand tenderly over his length.  It _is_ painful.  “But I guess you’re happy about that, right?” he says.  Zach makes a faint sound of assent.  “And I’m so hot, all over, but my dick feels like it’s on fire.”  He strokes a gentle fingertip up it, shudders.  Wonders what Zach is doing.  “Hey, are you –”

Zach makes a noise, part-laugh, part-gasp.  “Of course,” he says.  “I’m allowed to.”

“You’re allowed to,” Chris says.  His head feels heavy, even though it’s already on the pillow.  “I wish I could watch you.  You never let me watch you come like that.”

“I did once,” Zach says, his voice slurred with lust.

“Only once,” Chris whispers.  “Hottest thing I’ve ever seen.  Ouch.”  His cock is jumping up into his hand for petting and it’s too sensitive.  “I’ve been aching all day.  I don’t know why I want it so much.  Just because I can’t, I guess.  I wish you could see this,” he says, and grins.  “You will on Friday…and God, it’ll be worse then.”

“I hope so,” Zach says blissfully.  “Stroke it a bit for me, Christopher.  Tell me how it feels.”

Chris wraps his hand carefully around his dick and gives a cautious tug.  “I can’t do this for long,” he gasps.  “I’m too on edge.”

“Just a little.  Come on.  How does it feel?”

“It feels – it’s too much.  I want – _Zach_.  Please don’t make me do this anymore, I’m gonna –”

“Just a little more,” Zach says.  His breath is coming in short uneven bursts.  “You’re being so good.  Just a little more.  You sound amazing.  You sound like you’re _hurting_.”

“I _am_ hurting.  I don’t think I can last two days,” Chris pants.  “I don’t think I can last two _minutes_.  Please let me stop.  Please.  Zach, _please_ –”

“Are you all wet for me?  Dripping all over yourself?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Chris chokes.  “I’m –”

“ _Stop_ ,” Zach says.  “Stop.  _Now_.”  And Chris, grateful, snatches his hand away immediately.  Zach starts making incoherent orgasm _noises_ all down the phone line and Chris has to dig his fingernails unpleasantly deep into the flesh of his inner thigh to stop himself coming accidentally.  “ _Fuck_ ,” Zach says eventually, like he’s surprised.  “That was…you were right.”  He’s still trying to catch his breath.  “Definitely should have done the phone sex like this from the start.”

“Well, why _didn’t_ you –”

“Friday,” Zach says.  “Friday, Christopher.”

“I know.”  Chris starts smiling an enormous, dopey smile that he’s relieved no one else is around to see.  “I can’t wait.  I already packed.”  He tucks himself back into his jeans carefully, grateful that Zach has changed the subject.  He’s leaked pre-come all over his stomach.

“You can stay at my place _some_ nights, right?” Zach asks, sounding a little sleepy.

“Hell, yes.  Screw my publicist.  What does she know, anyway?  She thinks I hero-worship you, for Christ’s sake.”

“Clearly a woman of diminished capacity.  Who nevertheless has done wonders for your career.”

“Oh, come _on_ , don’t start trying to make me feel bad.”

“You don’t _have_ to go along with her ideas, Pine.  And she _is_ just doing her job,” Zach points out.  “Plus the way she tells it, she has a really difficult client.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Chris grumbles.  “And quit talking about me behind my back.”

Zach laughs.  “I have to go clean up.  I came all over my favorite shirt, damn it.”

“Okay.  But…”

“Mm?”

“Are those all the rules?  Just five?”

“We can add to them as we go along.  We don’t have to rush things.”

That seems reasonable.  “I hope you didn’t ruin your shirt,” Chris smirks.

“Just keep your hands off your cock,” Zach says.  “Or else.”

“I know.  I am.  I will.”

“Friday,” Zach says again.

“Friday,” Chris grins.

“Remember the rules.”

“I will,” Chris promises. 

As if he could forget them.


End file.
